Bored in Fornost
by NerdAnel the Wise
Summary: A teenage boy and his (slightly dysfunctional) family must move from Minas Tirith to the ancient downs of the North when Elessar appoints his eccentric father as warden.
1. Default Chapter

Bored in Fornost ~ Intro 

_Year 14 of the Fourth Age_

Well, isn't this just great.

Thanks to my father, I now can look forward to living the rest of my life in a huge graveyard.  Before I go on, however, let me introduce myself.

I am Dior, son of Lord Orodreth of Minas Tirith.  Yes, I said Dior, as in the son of Beren and Lùthien.

It was my father's idea.  You see, he devotes his time to two things: governing and poring over ancient scrolls.  If you ask him the time of day, he will not know it.  However, if you ask him to cite the family tree of King Elessar backwards (and give a general history of everyone for good measure) while standing on his head, he will not hesitate to do so.  My three sisters are named Lalaith, Nimloth, and Aredhel.  I could've been named after any number of heroic figures: Tùrin, Beren, Haldir, Tuor…

…Instead I am named after some pansy half-elf who's famous for being pretty.  But I digress.

You see, King Elessar has long been looking for someone to be a warden of his northern lands.  He brought the issue up in the royal court today, and who should happen to be the first to volunteer but my father.  When he arrived home this evening, I knew something was afoot, for instead of immediately telling me that I would amount to nothing if I did not pursue my studies (his usual greeting), he slapped me on the back and walked away humming an old military march.

He broke the news over dinner.  He turned to my mother:

"Dear, I have wonderful news!  His Highness has chosen me to be warden at Fornost!"

Five sets of utensils clattered on their plates as the rest of my family and I gaped at him.  He was as giddy as a schoolgirl.

My mother, nearly in tears, asked him why he would ever take up a post so far from home.

"Think of all the wonderful historical events that happened there!  Fornost was long the stronghold of Elendil the Tall, and now it shall be our home!"

My six-year-old sister Lalaith began to cry, Nimloth, the next oldest, was stunned like me, and Aredhel, my older sister, began to complain about how she would never see her friends again, though I think she was more worried about never seeing that particularly good-looking royal stablehand again. 

My father ordered us to be quiet, and the noise immediately stopped.  He told us he would not tolerate this behavior, and we should begin to pack belongings, for we were going to leave within the next week.

That night I sat out on our balcony overlooking the city.  Nim, my ten-year-old sister, joined me.  She asked if I would be sad to leave, and I said I would.  She asked why, and I told her it was because all the other boys were training to be knighted in the royal school, but I wouldn't get to.  I asked her if she would be sad.

"The boys in my class say that there are ghosts on the downs that suck you into the tombs.  All the other girls scream, but I don't," she added quickly, covering up for her official tomboy status.  She asked if I believed in ghosts.  I told her I wasn't sure, but if one tried to get her, I would beat it up for her.

"You can't beat up ghosts, silly.  You would punch right through them," she informed me.

"Then I shall spit beans at them, like the old wives say."  Looking at her, I was suddenly very glad she was my little sister.  Despite our age difference of five years, we are the closer to each other than our other siblings.  We both share a passion for swords, horses, heroism, and hating schooling.

 Mother started calling for her to come in and take her bath.  Nim made a face and asked if I would help her escape.  I told her I would not, though I would teach her a new fighting move I had learned after school if she would go.  I knew mother greatly disapproved of her lack of love for dolls and dresses, though I figured self-defense was more practical, and made a good incentive, seeing as how she ran off into the house without a backward glance at my offer.

With a sigh I looked out on the City and the fields of the Pelennor once again.  Perhaps I was being over-dramatic, but I felt as if my life was ending.

**********

Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's works, they belong to the Tolkien estate, etc.

Well, to my own amazement, I'm starting another fic!  The very beginning of this has been sitting in my computer for quite some time.  I feel like doing something a little more lighthearted, I suppose.  Dior's little sister Nimloth is actually based on Scout (Jean Louise) from _To Kill a Mocking Bird _by Harper Lee (an awesome book I highly recommend).  The spitting beans thing also came from there, but I figure Gondor probably has its own silly superstitions too ^^ Though this will be from Dior's perspective, it won't be like a journal, as I had originally intended.  Um, not much else to say, except I hope you enjoy this.

~NerdAnel the Wise

PS- This is partially based on my experiences, seeing as how I moved recently from Massachusetts to Minnesota and felt as if my life was ending, but that's about it.  Dior is certainly not a self-insert.  Differences include gender and views on how interesting history is (I love it.  Oh come on, haven't you noticed "nerd" is part of my pen name yet? ^^).  Also, chapters will come fairly slow, seeing as how I also have another fic going.  

A/N: When I say Dior's father is "Lord Orodreth of Minas Tirith," I don't literally mean he rules it.  I suppose he would be a sort of advisor to King Elessar, and was given Lord as a title.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  

A week later, we were all packed and ready to leave.  Actually, we had been ready to leave a few days earlier, and would have, had it not been for Mother's desperate attempts to stall Father.  However, that morning he had caught Aredhel and that stablehand doing something (he refused to tell us what, and only went very red in the face when we asked).  He declared that she proved city life was not fit for raising a young lady, and that living in a rural area would do much more for her character.  I asked what it would do for me, seeing as I was not a young lady and there was no way I could train to be a knight, which would definitely improve my character.  He told me to keep my mouth shut, and to concentrate on my studies, lest I grow up to be a complete idiot.

        So, without further delay, we set out that dreary April morning, amid tearful farewells as the women and my father piled into a carriage and I rode behind.

        Anyone who did not know what was going on would have thought we were going off to our deaths, preferably an honorable martyrdom.In some ways I had begun to see it as that.

        Now, anyone who knows the geography of Middle Earth would have thought we would head northwest toward the Gap of Rohan, but on the second evening, I noticed the sun was still setting right in front of us.  I questioned my father, and he confessed that one of the only reasons Mother agreed to go was that he promised her they could stop at Edoras so she could see her "dear childhood friend," Lothiriel, who had wedded Èomer, King of Rohan.  I had thought Mother gave in too quickly to Father, and I told him so.  He cuffed me on the side of the head, and I heard a cry of "Don't hit the children, Orodreth!" come from the inside of the carriage.  Mother was not a believer in corporal punishment.

        A few days later, Edoras came in sight.  Aredhel sniffed, saying it only made sense that such a primitive nation such as Rohan was would have a village for a capital.  Father scolded her and began to give her the glorious history of the House of Eorl the Young.  Mother said nothing.  It was well known in my house that she had never wholly approved of Lothiriel's choice for a husband, but loved her all the same.  

Two royal guards on horses soon approached our caravan, but we were allowed to enter Edoras without a long interrogation.  It seems that after the "no foreigners" policy before the War of the Ring, the Rohirrim are making up for the lack of hospitality.

We entered the Golden Hall of Meduseld to the warm greetings of Lothiriel and Èomer.  My mother embraced her friend, and they immediately went over to a table and started chatting about the newest gossip as if they had never been parted.  Aredhel sat with them, gossiping being her favorite past time.  Lalaith clambered up onto Mother's lap.  

I found Nim staring at another woman with long golden hair.  She was talking with our father and Èomer with two young boys in tow.  

"It's the Lady Èowyn," Nim breathed.  The White Lady had long been her idol.  She saw her as the Ultimate Tomboy, I suppose.  My father soon caught sight of us, and waved us over.  He introduced us, and Èowyn asked me if I was training to be a knight.

"Y-yes, milady," I stammered, embarrassed to be asked this by one of the greatest warriors of my time.  She caught sight of little Nim peeking out from behind me, and immediately started going on about how adorable she was, and wasn't she just the little lady.  I got the feeling that she wished that she had a daughter of her own.

"Begging your pardon, milady, but I want to be a knight like my big brother D'yor when I get older," she told her shyly.  The Lady paused in wonder for a moment, and then laughed out loud.  She turned to my father.

"Well, my Lord, I wish you the best of luck with this one, if she is as much of a handful as I was." With that she herded Nim and her own sons, Barahir and Elboron, outside to play.  I stayed with the adults and learned that Èowyn was in Edoras visiting with her boys (she said because she wanted them to keep in touch with their Rohirrim blood) while her husband, Faramir Prince of Ithilien, remained home to take care of affairs.    

I had been listening to them talk leisurely for ten minutes when I heard yells from outside.  Everyone rushed out to find that at the bottom of the main stairs, my little sister had pinned Barahir facedown in the dirt with his arm twisted behind his back.  Elboron was staring at her in shock.

"Take it back!  Take it back, scum!" she was shouting at him.

"Gerroff me!  GERROFF MEE!!" he cried.  Hastily I hurried down and untangled them, Nim's arms windmilling as she tried to get back at him.

"Why on earth did you do this?" my father roared as he grabbed Nim and held her by her shoulders.  Now that I got a good look at her, her face was smudged with dirt, and her dress as well, with a few tears in it.  She met his eyes and began to speak very calmly.

"Barahir called you a fat loon, father.  I must defend the honor of the family," she stated.  Father was flabbergasted.

"But—but where did you learn to fight?!"

"D'yor taught me."

I most desperately wanted to crawl into a hole right then.

Mother came rushing up, nearly in tears.  "Go apologize to him right now, young lady!" 

Without hesitation she walked up to Barahir and Èowyn, who was wiping his face off.  "I'm sorry, Barahir.  I lost my temper.  Let's be friends." She extended her grubby hand and he tentatively took it.  She smiled at him.  Mother and Lady Èowyn escorted their children inside, scolding both of them as they went.  Father turned to me, and I knew I was in for a long lecture the moment he found time for it.  Then he turned to the King and apologized for his daughter's overzealous sense of family honor.  He said not to worry.  I thought he must be used to that sort of behavior in girls, seeing as his own sister slew the Witch King.

It was all forgotten that night, save by my mother who kept Nim by her side all through supper, and Aredhel, who seemed permanently mortified.  Secretly I was proud of Nim, and I think Father was too.  However, I did not get a chance to ask him, for Mother shooed the girls and I to bed after Father, under the influence of many mugs of beer, decided to switch from reciting the relatively safe "Tale of Tùrin" to rowdy alehouse songs he had learned in his younger days.  Thank goodness Mother never noticed we could hear him from our beds, or we would have had to sleep in the stable.

********** 


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

We set out west-northwest the next morning, towards the Gap of Rohan. We spent one week crossing huge plains, featureless save for the occasional hut or village. Every now and then we would come upon a band of horses. Nim always sighed lustily as she watched them race away. It was easy to see she wished she was with them and not trapped in a carriage with her two whining sisters, an exasperated mother, and a father who could not stop droning.

One morning, something interesting finally appeared on the horizon: the Tower of Orthanc. It stood erect as a needle, piercing the sky. We had to circle around its outer wall, for the grounds were still flooded. The water was eerily still, darkly reflecting the wreckage around it. At one point Nim grabbed my arm and pointed out into Fangorn Forest. "Look! Look, an Ent!" she exclaimed, leaning out of the carriage and waving frantically. We all looked too, but could see nothing out of the ordinary. Nim was very disappointed that we did not see it, and kept swearing it was real, until Aredhel finally snapped and told her to stop spouting fairytales. This set off a family argument that went on for at least an hour.

Weary and irritable, we finally stopped to camp just outside of Orthanc. Perhaps I was the only one who thought so, but it was quite creepy. I found it hard to sleep, knowing that quite nearby a huge army of Uruk-Hai had been spawned.

The next morning I woke to see Nim glaring at Orthanc with crossed arms. I asked her what was wrong. She told me that Uruk-Hai hadn't attacked. I asked her why in Middle Earth she wanted that to happen. She stared at me with her "Come-_On_" face. I gave up and went back to sleep.

After passing through the Gap, we started to head north, west of the Misty Mountains. They looked impenetrable, peaks rearing towards the sky. More than once we had to stop to repair a wheel or axle. The ground was rocky and uneven. Soon after crossing the Greyflood, we headed farther west, the Mountains fading in the distance.

We now were on the Greenway. Suffice to say, it was not that green anymore; closer to runny, muddy brown owing to torrential rains and increased traffic. For quite a few days the rain did not let up, but once it did, I started to feel better about the North. Everything around the Greenway was, well, green. The vivid, fresh green that only comes with spring. I found it quite odd that I was thinking these things; I mean, I was teenage boy. This was girly stuff, right? Eventually I began to care less, swept up in the scenery that rolled by.

It began to look more and more homely and less wild. We passed the occasional farm, fields covered with tiny seedlings. One time we were even invited for dinner at a large farmhouse, owned by a middle-aged couple and full of boisterous children. It turned out that they were originally from Gondor, having moved farther north after the War looking for land. The husband himself had stood at the Black Gates with King Elessar. Amazingly, Nim did not start her normal soldier inquisition; she was far too busy playing a rather raucous game of hide and seek with the other kids.

That night, after a supremely delicious and filling dinner, I asked the man how he liked the North. He gave me a knowing smile. "Truth be told, I like it better than Gondor. Life moves more slowly, yet it's richer in some ways. It grows on you, if you take the time to let it work its magic."

As we traveled on towards the town of Bree, I thought about what the farmer had said. In Minas Tirith, everyone rushed by in the streets, heads down, bent on business. Here, however, it seemed every hour or so we passed a farmer in a cart or a walking traveler who always waved and smiled. If someone did that to you in the City, you would wonder what they were trying to sell.

On first sight, Mother and Aredhel despised Bree. Dad, however, was ecstatic. He had booked us rooms at none other than the Prancing Pony. Nim shared his enthusiasm, and even I couldn't help thinking how neat it was to be staying at the same place some of the Fellowship had.

The owner Butterbur was still there, and he greeted us personally, being _such_ aristocrats. It was hard to tell who was happier to meet whom: he or Dad. Nim immediately requested a detailed account of the Nazgùl attack. In our private room, Butterbur sat Nim and Lalaith on his knees and recounted the harrowing tale. For the first time on the trip I felt completely at home; sitting in front of a warm fire, surrounded by family.

The next day, dad told us we were to meet someone that morning. Butterbur led us down the hallway and into another private room. Standing to meet us were two halflings: Samwise Gamgee, the Mayor of the Shire, and his wife Rosie Gamgee, to be exact.

Father greeted them warmly before introducing the rest of us. We had all seen Hobbits before; in fact we had met Peregrin Took himself on one of his many stays at Minas Tirith. He had been extremely friendly and always quick to laugh. Samwise had that same friendliness, though toned down a bit. His face was tanned and kindly, exuding good-nature and earnestness. Rosie was the same, though she had laughter in her eyes.

It turned out that the meeting was about father's jurisdiction and how it coincided with the Shire. Elessar and father had arranged the meeting, wanting Samwise's advice and perhaps anything he wanted Father to do to protect the Shire.

"I haven't had much trouble keeping Men out," Samwise said. "Not many outsiders have come to live around here, and the natives are pretty respectful of Hobbits. We've had one or two trespassers, though our sheriffs made short work of them."

"I suppose we shall have to wait until more start settling here to decide what to do. This land is sure to attract those who want out of the City. In the meantime, do you have any counsel on getting along up here?"

"Keep out of affairs between just a few people. Northerners don't like authority, really. Could take care of themselves," Sam laughed. "Aside from a few outlaws, we don't have too much trouble. However, I do have one piece of advice, 'specially for you kids:" he looked at us very seriously. "Stay off the Downs. Can't say exactly what's there, but it's not good." We all looked at each other.

"Oh, stop scaring them, Sam!" scolded Rosie. She looked at us earnestly. "If you don't journey far out on the Downs, you have nothing to fear. This is really such a wonderful place, and we are happy to call you our neighbors." After a round of farewells, the Gamgees set off for Hobbiton. We continued on our way towards Fornost. As we pulled out of Bree, it seemed we were heading out into a land that had been sleeping for centuries. Here the Northern kings had fought and died; here they now lay buried under mounds of earth in eternal sleep.

I hoped.

* * *

Well, this is really just to prove that I am indeed still alive. For an update on TRAS, check my bio. Thanks.

Ainu Laire: I'm sorry to disappoint you, but this fic won't be updated very regularly. I am taking three AP (college-level) classes this year: Biology, English, and U.S. History respectively. I am also a year ahead of my class in math, not to mention I take Japanese. This all adds up to one thing: loads of homework. For example, I have three essays due this week. Yuck. Really yuck. So yeah, life is kinda getting in the way of fic-writing. Eventually, this fic should be longer than TRAS (I actually enjoy writing this one more). But don't hold me to any schedule. Wait for author alerts and whatnot. Thanks.


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